


Fangs of the Misfits

by Taconite68



Category: Jem and the Holograms (Cartoon), Jem and the Holograms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taconite68/pseuds/Taconite68
Summary: They are the Misfits...and on the verge of death...a selfless act by their leader...will change them forever...
Comments: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be advised. This story contains violence and strong language.

_What happened after the Battle of the Bands..._   
  
  


Somewhere in Southern California...October 1985...

It all happened so fast. Pizzazz had been commiserating with the other Misfits about their defeat at the Battle of the Bands, and how they were going to get revenge on Jem and her Holo-Twerps for it, and how they would probably have to find a new manager since that idiot Eric Raymond was now in police custody for having the Holograms kidnapped so they couldn't perform and beat the Misfits.

In hindsight, that all seemed so trivial....so insignificant...compared to what happened next...

Roxy, who was driving, had been the middle of ranting about the Holograms drummer, Shana, who she despised for some reason, when it actually happened. There came a muffle boom from the front of the van, followed by a sheet of flame erupting from beneath the dashboard with a whoosh, filling the interior with flames in the blink of an eye.

Out of pure reflex Pizzazz raised her arms in a futile effort to shield herself. From behind her she thought heard Stormer scream. From her right she swore she heard Roxy as well. She might have screamed herself; she wasn't sure. But unlike her band mates, she screamed in surprise, not in agony.

She knew the flames wouldn't harm her like they would her friends... 

The flames didn't burn long; being more of a flash fire than an raging inferno, but it was enough to burn the three of them significantly. Roxy must have lost her grip on the wheel, as the van suddenly swerved violently to the left, crossing the opposite lane before leaving the highway as it hurtled itself into an empty field. It continued on for a yard or so, violently bouncing and shaking all the way, before coming to a jarring stop by slamming nose first into a irrigation ditch.

Not wearing her seat belt, as usual, Pizzazz was slammed into the dashboard, knocking the wind out of her, before being slammed back into her seat. For a moment she sat there, trying to regain her senses after being stunned by the impact. Once she had her bearings, she took stock of her situation.

Every part of the interior; floor, ceiling, upholstery, and, especially, the dashboard, had been charred black. She herself, as she expected, was relatively unscathed, with some charring of her clothes and a few soot marks on her skin. But she was, for all intents and purposes, fine.

When she turned to check on her friends, she gasped sharply. Unlike her, they were not fine at all. A horribly-burned Roxy was slumped face-down over the steering wheel, while an equally burned Stormer was sprawled over the back seat. To be honest, and blunt, the only thing recognizable about either of them were strands of their respective hair that had somehow managed to survive being incinerated. Miraculous still was the fact they were both still alive-barely. The only indication of this were the sounds of heavy, labored breathing.

Upon seeing this, Pizzazz literally broke into tears. Her sobbing soon becoming full wails of anguish. At this moment she had stopped being Pizzazz, the fearsome leader of the Misfits, and was simply Phyllis Gabor, a young woman whose friends-the only ones she had ever known-were dying right in front of her. Yes, from where she sat she could sense both the beating of their hearts and their pulses, but those were growing ever fainter by the second. 

She had never felt so helpless in her life. She was no doctor, and barely knew even basic first aid, which was just as well since it was obvious that her friends' injuries were too severe anyways. No one was coming to help them - hell, no one would even know they were here, unless someone driving past on the highway saw them, but at this late hour the chances of that were remote. 

So that left to her to the cold reality that she would have to sit there helplessly, in the wreck of their van, in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere, and slowly wait as her friends slowly died right in front of her.

There was nothing she could...wait...wait. There was something she could do. In her grief she had forgotten all about it, which was just as well. It would be too monstrous for most people to contemplate. For you see, Phyllis "Pizzazz" Gabor had a side of her she had been hiding from everyone - including her fellow Misfits - for years. The simple reason was that, as far as she was concerned, it was better if everyone didn't know. It would just make things more difficult in her life than they already were, to say the least. 

Now, however, it seemed to offer the only way to save her friends. The mere idea that she would do such a thing to them was incomprehensible, but now it seemed she didn't have much of a choice. She knew that if she did this there would be consequences she would have to face in the future, but so be it. It was the only way.

She slowly moved out of her seat and over the center console, carefully leaning over to place her head next to Roxy's. 

"Roxy," she whispered, trying not to sob some more, "I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I've got a way to save you. Both of you. Your probably not going to like it...but...I can't lose either of you." She shut her eyes as she prepared herself to do this, trying not to start sobbing again. "Forgive me."

She opened her eyes. They no longer looked human; a pair of black pupils, long and narrow like the blade of a dagger, were now each surrounded by a green iris that shone brilliantly in the darkness. She slowly lowered her face closer to Roxy's neck, finding, much to her relief, a patch of skin that wasn't too charred. It would have to do.

Knowing that what she did next would would probably cause her band mate pain if she was still conscious, she opened her mouth to expose her teeth. Front and center of them were pair of long, sharp fangs. She shut her eyes again, and plunged her head forward, piercing her friend's skin with both fangs. For a few seconds she kept them buried there before slowly moving her head back, gently withdrawing them from her friend's flesh, leaving two small, round puncture wounds. Pizzazz sat there and stared at what she had done, the taste of her friend's charred flesh lingering in her mouth, before slowly climbing over into the back seat to gently slide in next to Stormer. She, too, had a patch of skin on her neck that wasn't too badly charred, and Pizzazz thanked fate for that. She wouldn't have been able to do this if there wasn't.

Like with Roxy, she whispered to her as well. She told her the same things as before, adding, maybe to help her conscience, "Look at this way, we'll be like sisters." This time she was unsuccessful at trying not to sob. 

She took a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath, before she bite Stormer, carrying out the process exactly the same way she had with Roxy. That horrible taste of charred flesh felt even stronger now, acting, in some morbid way, as a reminder of what she just done. She gently removed her fangs, leaving a new set of puncture marks.

There, it was done. There was nothing left to do but let the process carry on by itself as it changed her friends. It would take a while, though she didn't know whether it would take several hours or several days in this case. She knew it was going to be hell for them once they recovered as they came to grips with what had happened to them, as it had been for herself. But she would be there to guide and lead them into an uncertain future.

It was the least she could do.

She gave them both one last glance, eyes still wet, before climbing into the back, pushing past the charred remains of their instruments and other possessions that hadn't survived the inferno.The fire had been so intense it had melted the steel of the rear doors, fusing them shut, but with her inhuman strength she managed to push them open. She stepped out in the warm night air, taking a cursory look at her surroundings as she walked back towards the highway.

She looked in both directions to try and spot any approaching headlights, but saw none. With a heavy sigh, she returned to the van, planning to stay near it until either someone found them or...her friends recovered, whatever happened first. She hoped it would be the former instead of the latter first.

Leaning against the van, she turned her head to one side to press her ear against the side. Her inhuman hearing would allow her to hear what was happening inside, while keeping an eye on the highway. Folding her arms, she went as still as a statue, determined to keep her vigil for as long as it took.


	2. Chapter 2

_As the dawn approaches, so does help... _   
  
  
  


Pizzazz first saw it out of the corner of her eye; a speck of light moving along the road. At first she didn't recognize what it was, but as it came closer she saw it was not one speck but two. Now alert she realized with some elation what they were - the headlights of a car.

But whoever they weren't slowing down at all, giving no indication that they had seen the van. And how could they? Despite the pre-dawn light, it was still relatively dark outside. With the van being mostly black in color, sitting so far out in the field, it easily blended into the darkness, practically becoming invisible to the naked eye. Anyone driving by could easily miss spotting it from the road.

She would not let that happen.

"I'll be back," she promised aloud to her band mates, and was off like a shot, racing across the field and into the road, waving her arms and shouting at the top of her lungs to get their attention.

She prayed they would stop. For the sake of her friends, they had to.

  
Constance Montgomery was not having a good morning, which was no surprise since last night had been a complete disaster. She had gone to the Battle of the Bands to see her favorite band, the Misfits, win, only to see them lose to those pastel colored weirdos, Jem and the Holograms, and their boring lovey-dovey music.

Oh, well. As far as she was concerned, the Misfits' songs would always be better, and someday, she was sure, they would get her.

After that disappointment, she had spent the night in a cheap motel before making the drive back to L.A., sleeping-or at least trying to-on a bed with what had to be the lumpiest mattress in the world. So much for getting any actual sleep. 

After managing a grand total of barely four hours, she just gave up. Replenished by a breakfast consisting of a large coffee and a pair of donuts, she set out for home in her beloved car, a lime-green 1966 Ford Mustang convertible. It was about five in the morning, and the trip would take about two hours, so she'd probably be home just a little before eight. There she would spend another quiet Sunday alone before going back to work on Monday to slave away for dear cousin Vivian.

Ugh...

If she hadn't been so desperate for a job when she moved to L.A. last year, she wouldn't have agreed to intern for her insufferably perfect cousin. But, for better or for worse, it seemed at the moment to be the only way for her to break into videography, and, hopefully, the entertainment industry as a whole. One day, she had sworn to herself, she was going to make it big and beat her cousin at her own-

She had to literally stomp on the brakes as someone came running, and screaming, into the middle of the road right in front of her, literally appearing out of nowhere. With screeching tires the car jerked hard to a stop, knocking the wind out of her as she was slammed against the steering wheel. She regained her breath, glaring ahead as she got ready to curse whoever had run out in front of her like that, but there was no one there. They had dissapeared. 

"Please," a woman's voice suddenly said from beside her. "You have to help me."

Constance nearly jumped out of her skin, now ready to curse whoever it was for scaring her as well. She turned to face them, but her words died on her lips when she found herself staring into the face of the one and only Pizzazz, leader of the Misfits, who looked she'd just been put through the ringer. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes were partially torn and charred, and there was soot marks on various parts of her skin. The confident, and menacing, expression she usually wore was gone, replaced by a pure look of exhaustion mixed with desperation.

"Did you hear me?" Pizzazz said, a little more forceful this time. "I need your help." 

This snapped Constance out of her trance. "Wha-What happened?" 

Pizzazz looked like she was about ready to lose her patience-like she had many times before-and start shouting, but held herself, and took a deep breath before she replied. Her answer was short and to the point.

"There was an accident. The others Misfits are hurt. We need to get back to L.A. right now. I need you to take us there."

It barely took but a second for Constance to take this all in before she replied, "Okay, I'll help you. Where are they?"

"Follow me."

Pizzazz turned and just about jogged back towards the field, with Constance leaving her car to follow close behind. They crossed the road and entered the field, following a trail of upturned dirt and flattened grass to what could only be described as something from a nightmare...


	3. Chapter 3

_Under some circumstances, it's better not to meet your idols..._

  
Usually, Constance had always figured, someone would be excited to finally meet their idols. But not her. Even though she knew she wasn't hallucinating, she still couldn't help but feel disbelief at the fact that her idols, the Misfits, were actually riding in her car as they drove back to L.A. Any excitement she might have felt about this, however, was extinguished by the circumstances through which this had come about.  
  
Truth be told, the young fan had almost become sick at the sight of the condition they were in, but managed to keep it together enough to help Pizzazz load them into the back seat. At the rock star's insistence, they wrapped them up like mummies with some old blankets from the trunk, then put the roof up to hide them from view.  
  
As for Pizzazz herself, she had been silent for the last half hour, seemingly content with staring off into space, though she occasionally glanced over her shoulder to check on her band mates. The distressed look on her face was unmistakable. It was clear she didn't want to talk right now, but Constance wanted to ask about the accident, but was afraid to. Another thought occurred to her that might help break the ice.

"So, um, what hospital are we taking them to?"

"No hospital."

"What? But they-"

"No hospital!"

The sudden outburst made her jump, and she nearly lost control of the car, but managed to keep a firm grip on the steering wheel. Out of the corner of her eye she could Pizzazz was now staring at her, one of trademark scowls etched on her face. Her eyes...What the hell was wrong with her eyes? They no longer looked human, and were more like some wild beast. She then blinked and they were back to normal. She went back to staring out the windshield, leaving poor Constance to silently wonder if she just saw that, or if she was just some trick of the light, finally settling on the latter. She waited another few minutes before plucking up enough courage to speak again.

"Okay, no hospital. So where are we taking them?"

"My home." Pizzazz's voice was flat, the anger from her earlier outburst completely gone. "I'll give you directions when we reach the city."

"Okay."

Not wanting to push her luck any farther, Constance let it go at that. After some more time, it was Pizzazz who broke the silence.

"There was an explosion."

"What?"

"The accident. There was an explosion."

"An explosion?"

"Yes." Pizzazz told her everything that happened. "Then you came along and here we all are."

"Wow."

Constance didn't know what else to say. Based on what she was just told, it was indeed a miracle and then some that Roxy and Stormer managed to survive all that, and Pizzazz was-Wait a minute. Something didn't add up here. How could Pizzazz be in such good condition, while the other Misfits weren't? Something didn't-

A question from Pizzazz broke her train of thought. "How far are we from L.A.?"

"Well, since we just passed through Coleville, we should be there in about an hour or so."

"Good...Good." There was a pause, then, "I take it your a fan."

"Huh? How did you know?"

"The way you stared at me when you I stopped you." Pizzazz gave her a pointed look. "You already knew who I was."

Despite the circumstances they found themselves under, Constance couldn't help but grin at the fact her idol had just recognized the fact she was a fan.

"Yes, I did. I was there last night." She snorted. "You should have won."

Pizzazz replied in almost a whisper, "Last night seems like forever now."

This sad, melancholy attitude Pizzazz was showing was, to say the least, unnerving to Constance. She had first been attracted to the Misfits because of the proud, arrogant way they seem to carry themselves, but there was no trace of that here. It was clear the accident had deeply affected Pizzazz, and understandably so.

Who knew what would happen once they reached L.A...


	4. Chapter 4

_Coming home means more questions..._

  
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they made it to L.A. At Pizzazz's persistence, they avoided the freeways, sticking to level streets until they rolled up to a large mansion in Beverly Hills. The edge of the property along the street was bordered by a red brick wall broken only by a pair of wrought iron gates that guarded the entrance to a driveway.

Pizzazz pulled a small remote control from her pocket and aimed it at the gate, pressing small red button. The gates immediately swung open. 

"Drive," she ordered, pointing straight ahead.

The driveway ran up hill a bit before forking in two directions, leading to what appeared to be a large garage on the left, and the house itself on the right. Pizzazz now aimed her finger towards the house. 

"Park there."

They did so, and were soon gently carrying Roxy, then Stormer, inside, up a grand staircase to the second floor, and into one of the guest rooms. Under Pizzazz's direction, they laid them down on opposite sides of a king sized bed, leaving space in the middle between them.

As soon as they unwrapped the two Misfits from the blankets, Constance was in for the shock of her life. Besides the fact their clothes had been mostly destroyed, leaving them nearly nude, the two Misfits appeared to be completely healed of all their wounds, leaving no indication that they had been injured in any way, Except, of course, two identical pairs of puncture marks on the side of their necks. Her eyes went wide at this.

"The hell..."

She turned to ask Pizzazz about it, only to find her sadly staring back at her.

"I'll tell you everything," she promised. "Just help me get them out of those clothes."

Feeling that she really didn't have much of a choice if she wanted answers, Constance agreed, and they soon swapped the Misfits' destroyed clothes for a pair of white bathrobes from a nearby closet. After tucking them in, Pizzazz leaned over and whispered something to her band mates before she and Constance left the room.

"Are you hungry? I am."

"Yeah, sure."

They were halfway down the stairs when Pizzazz stopped and turned to face the young fan who had helped her.

"You know, I forgot ask you your name." A small apologetic smile was on her face.

Constance returned the smile. "It's Constance. Constance Montgomery." She shrugged as the rocker winced at the sound of her antiquated name. "I know, right? It's the name my folks gave me. In school they called me Clash."

"Why?"

Clash shrugged. "I used to get into a lot of fights. Got picked on a lot."

"Really?" They continued down the stairs, a grin appearing on Pizzazz's face. "Then as far as I'm concerned, your name is Clash."

The smile on Clash's face couldn't be bigger as she followed her idol downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

_The secret is out..._

  
After helping themselves to whatever they could find in the kitchen and pantry, the two women sat down in the dining room to enjoy a haphazard breakfast of sorts. More focused on eating, neither said anything at first before Pizzazz broke the silence.

"You saw me eyes." It was a statement, not a question.

Constance paused, slowly looked up from eating. "What do you mean?"

"When I snapped at you about going to a hospital, I noticed you glanced at me." Pizzazz's voice was low and even. "You saw them change, didn't you."

"I..I thought I did. I guess I just-"

"What you saw was real." Pizzazz blinked and those inhuman eyes were back. "They're real."

Constance went stiff as a board, staring wide-eyed, mouth agape. She tried to speak, but seemed to have trouble getting enough words out to form a sentence. "How...what..."

Pizzazz smiled sadly, knowing full well that what she was about to share with this fan who helped them would probably scare her right out the door. But so be it. She had promised to tell her everything, and she was going to keep her word. She owed Clash that much.

Well, here goes nothing...

"I'm afraid," she continued slowly, "they come with these."

She ever so slowly opened her mouth, making no sudden moves that could be considered aggressive. Soon her all her teeth were on display, including her fangs. Being a bit of an exhibitionist, she ran her tongue over them, emphasizing they're presence.

Poor Constance was still frozen in her seat, not sure of whether she should just sit there or run the hell away. For one brief moment she thought those fangs might be fake, but then remembered the puncture marks on the other...

It all suddenly fell into place: Pizzazz's condition after the crash, her resistance to going to a hospital, her changing eyes, the marks on her band mates' necks, and now those fangs.

For a moment, she considered the fact that 

Whenever faced with something that seemed incredible yet threatening, as well as real, the human brain will resort to the 'Fight or Flight' instinct, whereupon they will direct the rest of the body to either fight the threat or run away from it.

In Clash's case, the decision was to run.


	6. Chapter 6

_A plead for help and a decision..._

  
With a gasp Clash nearly stumbled out of the chair and ran out the kitchen as fast as she could, streaking through the living room and across the foyer, as she aimed straight for the front door.

Something streaked by her at tremendous speed, appearing as nothing more than a blur in the corner of her eye, and suddenly Pizzazz was in front of her, back pressed against the door, blocking her way out. Her eyes hadn't changed, and the fangs were still visible, but the expression on her face was one of desperation.

"Wait!" she pleaded, reaching out a hand. "Please...don't go. I'm sorry I scared you. It's just..." She sighed heavily. She seemed to lose the strength to stand, letting herself slide to the floor until she was sitting against the door. "Just...please, don't go."

Clash instinctively took a step back when Pizzazz reached out for her, but the rocker made no other move. After a tense moment or so, she kneeled down until they were eye-to-eye. Despite their inhuman appearance, those eyes seem to hold no malice as they made contact with Clash's own. In fact, they seem to hold a kind of weariness in them.

"What are you?" she nearly whispered.

"Isn't it obvious?" Pizzazz let out a humorless laugh. "I'm a vampire." She flashed her fangs. "Can't you tell?" 

Oh, Clash could tell, alright. Yet, despite this, she didn't feel she was in any danger at all. Far from it. Despite her fearsome appearance, the rocker hadn't actually attacked her, only scare her.

"You don't want me to leave." Pizzazz just nodded in response. "Why?"

The rock star glanced up at the ceiling. "Because it's going to be hell when they wake up."

Clash followed her gaze. "Why?"

"Because I bit them...turned them."

Although her knowledge of vampires came from horror films, Clash easily figured out what that meant.

"They're going to become vampires like you, aren't they?"

Those inhuman eyes held a deep sadness in them as Pizzazz quietly replied, "Yes." 

She glanced up at the ceiling again, speaking in a soft voice that no one would have thought the fearsome leader of the Misfits was capable of. But wasn't Pizzazz who was speaking; it was simply Phyllis Gabor, persona and attitude gone as she solemnly described what were essentially the consequences of what she had done to save her friends. 

"When they wake up, they won't be themselves. They'll have no idea who they are, or where they are. They'll be angry, confused, and hungry."

"For blood?" Clash asked ominously.

Pizzazz lowered her gaze and nodded. "All they'll be able to focus on is feeding from whoever they can. They won't be themselves until they do." She tentatively reached out for Clash, who, sensing no hostility, allowed her idol to place a hand on her cheek. "It'll be safe for me, but dangerous for you. But right now your the only one here, and I don't want to face this alone. Will you help me?"

Clash knew any sane person would get the hell out of there, but she knew she couldn't. Pizzazz was asking for her help, and, like her beloved Dad, she just couldn't abandoned someone in need. He was the closest thing to a moral compass she had in her life, and following his example had never steered her wrong yet-well, whenever she did follow his example. Still, if he wouldn't abandoned someone in their hour of need, then neither would she. Smiling, she gently placed her hand on Pizzazz's. 

"It's okay," she said gently. "I'll help you."

"You will?"

Clash just nodded.

The leader of the Misifts looked like she was about ready to cry in relief, clenching her eyes shut for a moment as if she trying to fight off any oncoming tears. She seemed to shudder a bit as if she was crying for a moment or so, but that subsided. She reopened her eyes, having apparently composed herself. They still hadn't changed back to normal, but they weren't intimidating in the slightest anymore.

"Thank you," she whispered, fully embracing Clash. 

Taken by surprise, the young fan couldn't help but return the embrace. Being hugged by her idol was just the latest surprise in what was turning out to be a morning full of them. It was almost surreal. If she didn't know she was fully awake, she would have sworn it was a dream.

Yeah, a dream that was about to turn into a nightmare...

"So, uh, what do we do now?" she asked as she helped Pizzazz to her feet.

"We can't do anything but wait until they wake up."

"How long will that take?"

"Maybe a few more hours, or a few minutes. Who knows?" Pizzazz shrugged. "It always different for-"

Both women were suddenly startled by a blood-curdling scream that echoed down from upstairs. While Clash nearly jumped out of her skin, Pizzazz became alarmed. Her inhuman senses told her exactly who it was, as she could recognize the voice, and feel the quickening heartbeat and pulse.

"Stormer!"

She was off like a shot, moving with an inhuman speed up the stairs, appearing for a moment like a blur, before she stopped at the landing to shout down at Clash.

"Come on!"  
  
She then zipped down the hallway to the guest room, leaving a stunned Clash to try and catch up. 

It turns out they didn't need to wait any longer. The Misfits were waking up, and who the hell knew what would happen next...


	7. Chapter 7

_Stormer Wakes Up_

  
_She was sitting in the back, like she usually did, listening to Roxy bitch about the Holograms drummer, Shana, who she despised from some reason, when it happened. She watched as the flames consumed Roxy and Pizzazz in the front before they roared towards the back...towards her..._

_Pain like she had never felt before consumed her, and everything went dark. She heard a voice speaking to her softly, sounding like they were ready to cry._

_She recognized the voice...was that Pizzazz? It was. She couldn't understand most of what she said, except for "We'd be like sisters"._

_She then felt a new sharp, searing pain, and a deep feeling of cold wash over her, replacing the pain as she slowly lost consciousness..._

  
She woke up with a gasp, suddenly sitting up in bed, breathing heavily like she had just run a marathon, her heart beating a mile a minute. It took a minute or so before they returned to a normal beat.

Actually, no, they didn't. They were now both beating at a slow, steady pace, with almost a pause between individual beats. She was no doctor, but was pretty sure this wasn't normal. To say she was also confused would be an understatement, to say the least. The rest of her, physically speaking, seemed fine enough. She moved her arms and legs around just to be sure, and found her limbs worked just fine.

Now she just had to try and figure out where she was, how she got here, and who was she? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember anything from before waking up, except for her dream. That had been vivid enough. 

Taking stock of her surroundings, she found she was wearing a bathrobe while sitting in an king-sized bed. Light peeking out from behind the curtains of a nearby window partially illuminated the room, revealing that it was a well-furnished bedroom of some kind, though one she had never seen before.

At the far end of the room, opposite the bed, was a makeup table and vanity mirror. Something in the mirror caught her eye. At first they appeared to be two small blue lights, but there was something strange about them. She could have sworn they only appeared when she was looking towards the mirror.

Intrigued as well as confused, she crawled across the bed-never noticing that she had been sharing it with someone else-and hopped off. She ever so slowly approached the mirror, leaning over the table to get a better look....

She let out a sharp gasp, stumbling back against the edge of the bed, as she stared, transfixed, into what was supposed to be her reflection. Yet her mind had trouble comprehending the fact that the reflection staring back at her was her own.

Those were definitely not "small lights" like she had thought before. But how the hell could that be? Human eyes didn't glow like that.

She cautiously approached the mirror again to have another look, mouth stuck open in amazement. It was then she noticed that two of her upper teeth didn't quite look normal....

She screamed like she never had before.

  
Pizzazz was first through the door, bursting into the room to find Stormer was wide awake, standing in front of the makeup table, her hands clutched over her mouth as she appeared to be convulsing. 

Gesturing for Clash to stay at the door, Pizzazz cautiously approached her band mate, moving as slowly as possible.

"Hey," she said softly, trying not to startle her. She knew Stormer wouldn't recognize her, but she had to get her attention. "Hey, look at me."

She tentatively reached out and gripped her her band mate's shoulder. The moment she did Stormer suddenly looked up and stared at her. Her eyes resembled Pizzazz's, though the irises were a brilliant blue instead of green, and, like the band leader, she too now sported a pair of fangs. In stark contrast to this visage were the tears streaming down her face.

Unfortunately, Stormer took one look at Pizzazz's own eyes and fangs, which remained unchanged, and freaked. She let out another scream, tearing away from her to supposedly run away, only to slam into the wall in her haste. Feeling trapped, she suddenly slumped to the floor, cowering into a ball on the floor as she began to sob, once again burying her face in her hands.

The sense of deja vu' in regards to what had happened just moments earlier downstairs wasn't lost on either Clash or Pizzazz. While the former stood there in the doorway, watching with amazement, the latter slowly approached and kneeled next Stormer, reaching over to start gently brushing the keytarist's hair with her fingers. She then began to sing.

Unlike the other Misfits, Pizzazz's skill with an instrument, like a guitar, was okay at best. But she was an talented singer, and had so far performed all the lead vocals for their songs, with the other two providing backup. But unlike those violent, jarring songs, the one she was singing now was slow, soft, and, truth be told, soothing. As she listened Clash suddenly felt a sense of peace about her, and could have easily have fallen asleep right there in the doorway if she had let herself do so. If she had to take a guess, she would swear it was some kind of lullaby. Whatever it was, that wasn't English Pizzazz was singing it in. It sounded like Russian, or something like that, but Clash wasn't sure. 

The song did seem to be having an effect on Stormer. After a minute or so, she had stopped crying, and was shyly peering at her from behind her hands. She now seemed calm enough to let Pizzazz, still singing, gently pull her into an embrace and hold her. Somehow the song had managed to reach out through the fear and confusion to calm her.

Pizzazz sang for another minute or two before she stopped.

"Clash." The young fan went to step into the room before Pizzazz, who seemed to have eyes on the back of her head, gestured for her to stop with a raised hand. "I need you to get something for me."

"Okay."

"Head down the hall to my room, and get two blood packs. You'll find them in a safe in the closest. The combination is five-two-six-eight-nine."

"What-"

"Hurry. Before she starts acting up again."

Realizing she meant Stormer, Clash didn't need to be told twice. She ran down to the very end of the hall and burst into the room, making a beeline for walk-in closest. Built into the wall at the far end was a steel safe with one of those electronic locks accessed by a keypad. Once unlocked and open, she found the air inside the safe was ice cold. No doubt to keep the racks of blood packs well preserved. Despite the urgency of her task, she couldn't help but pick up and study one of them. 

They resembled the clear plastic IV bags used in hospitals, except for the fact there was a screw-on cap at the end, like a flask. Knowing what she knew, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what Pizzazz used these for, and why she needed two. She quickly grabbed another, slammed the safe shut, and ran back to the guest room.

She stopped at the doorway, and slowly walked up behind the two Misfits so as not to startle Stormer herself. She reached out over Pizzazz's shoulder to hold out the packs in front of her.

"I got'em."

"Good. Unscrew one and hand it to me."

Clash did so, and Pizzazz held the open pack up to Stormer.

"Come on," she gently urged. "I bet your hungry. Drink this."

The blue-haired Misfit stared at the pack, seemingly puzzled at first by what was being presented to her. A great hunger seemed to come over as she suddenly grabbed the pack and pulled it to her lips, trying to drink it all in one gulp, but Pizzazz kept her grip on it, making sure she could only take careful sips from it. 

When it was empty, she sighed and leaned back in Pizzazz's arms, closing her eyes for minute before reopening them. They didn't change back to normal, but there seemed to be a look of lucidity in them. 

"Phyllis..." she croaked, her voice hoarse. It was obvious she was back to normal, since she used her band leader's real name. Something that only the other Misfits were allowed to do.

Pizzazz smiled. "Hey, Mary," she replied, using Stormer's real name. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit...what's going on?"

"A lot. I'll tell you when Roxy wakes up. Just relax."

Stormer did just that.

For Clash it had been a surreal sight to see Pizzazz feed one of the Misfits blood, like she was a newborn baby with a bottle of milk. But Stormer was technically a newborn vampire, so in a strange way it made sense. It was touching to see Pizzazz use such kindness and compassion to help her, and just another surprise in a morning full of them. It was sure turning into a strange day.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed movement to her left, where she knew...recognition turned to alarm as she slowly started to back away to the door.

Pizzazz had been so focused on Stormer that she didn't realize anything was wrong until she heard Clash shout "Pizzazz!" before letting out a distressed yelp, accompanied by the sounds of sheets rustling followed by a heavy thud as someone hit the floor. Quickly peering over her shoulder, she became alarmed at what she saw.

Roxy was now very awake, very angry, and very hungry... 


	8. Chapter 8

_Roxy wakes up and it's time for the truth..._

  
_Angry...hungry..._

_That's what she felt when she woke up. These feelings were not unfamilar to her; she had felt them plenty of times before. But she couldn't remember when or where, no matter how hard she tried. In fact, she couldn't recall anything beyond that vivid dream-no, nightmare-she had awaken from, including her own name. Her frustration at trying to remember all this made frustrated and angry...very angry..._

_She can, however, feel a strong hunger for...blood? What the hell? That can't be right, but she knows she wants it. Craves for it. Needless to say, she's confused as hell, but knows she needs to feed soon...one way or another..._

_She slowly starts to stir, but suddenly stops. She can hear voices, and knew she wasn't alone. Sitting up, she tried to be as silent as she could, not wanting to attract attention._

_There are three other women in the room with her. The first two are sitting on the floor in the front of the bed, one, who has green hair, holding the other, who has blue hair. Somehow those two seemed...familiar to her. Something in the back of her mind recognized them, but, like everything else, she couldn't remember from where or when._

_It was the third woman, the one with purple hair standing in the doorway, who had her complete attention. She could sense something strong...something vibrant...from her. She tried to focus on it in an attempt to...it was blood! Sweet, fresh blood. Needless to say, her hunger grew stronger, more intense. New thoughts appeared in her mind, showing what she had to do and how do to do it._

_She needed to feed... and now she would..._

_Without hesitation she struck, leaping across the bed to tackle her prey, pinning her to the floor with every intention of feeding from her..._

  
Pizzazz watched as her worst fears came true. While she had been focused on Stormer, Roxy had woken up and, hungry for blood, attacked Clash. The Misfits' bass guitarist and sometimes drummer had her pinned to the floor, fangs fully out as she tried to bury them into her would-be victim's neck, who, for her part, was barely managing to hold back her attacker, pushing back at her with all her strength. Thanks to the super human strength the change had given Roxy, though, she wouldn't last long. Pizzazz knew she had to act fast.

"Stay here," she ordered Stormer, before charging at Roxy, using her own inhuman strength to pull her off Clash and slam her into the wall. Enraged at being attacked, the guitarist tried to charge her attacker, only for Pizzazz to grab her by throat and pin her to the wall. Being the more mature vampire, she could easily overpower her newborn band mate one-handed. For her part Roxy grabbed her arm in an attempt to wrench it away as they struggled, hissing and snarling as she showed her fangs.

"Be still!" Pizzazz hissed back, showing off her own fangs. 

Something in Roxy's partly-feral mind recognized that the commanding tone in this woman's voice was something to be obeyed, and she stopped her struggle, though she kept baring her fangs. This allowed Pizzazz to call out to Clash.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll live, I guess." 

After being knocked down, the young fan had managed to get back on her feet, shaking her head to regain her senses. She saw Pizzazz holding Roxy against the wall, and suddenly realized the other blood pack she'd been holding was missing.

"Where is it?"

She glanced frankly in every direction, finally spotting where it had landed on the floor, still intact. She wasted no time in scooping it up and shoving it into Pizzazz's free hand, who in turn shoved it in Roxy's face. She started to jerk her head from side to side like a young child refusing to eat their food.

"Drink it," Pizzazz ordered sternly.

Roxy huffed and allowed the band leader to hand-feed her like she had with Stormer. She soon sighed, closing her eyes for a second before reopening them. Like the other Misfits, hers kept their inhuman appearance, but with a look lucidity in them. A clear sign she was herself again was when she stared at the hand wrapped around her neck, then hotly glared at the woman it belonged to.

"What the fuck is going on?!" she tried to roar, her voice as hoarse as Stormer was.

Pizzazz slowly withdraw her arm. "Welcome back, Roxy," she sighed with relief. 

"The fuck does that mean?!"

Pizzazz sighed, not looking forward to this at all. As much as Roxy being pissed off meant she was back to normal, she was going to be even more enraged once she was told about everything.

"I'll tell you everything, okay? I just need you to calm the fuck down."

"Why?" Roxy growled, still sounding hoarse.

"Because your scaring the hell out of Stormer, that's why," the leader of the Misfits replied calmly, unphased by her band mate's aggressive tone.

Roxy glanced at Stormer, saw that her band mate had been frightened by her actions and frowned.

"Fine," she huffed, and went silent, though she was still scowling. This was usually a sign that she had backed down-for now, anyways.

With Roxy subdued for the moment, Pizzazz turned her attention to the other two in the room. Stormer was still sitting on the floor, having watched everything with a mix of shock, disbelief, and a bit of fear, on her face. But, for the moment, she was fine.

Clash was checking herself for any injuries. She was miraculously unharmed, though she did sigh heavily at the sight of tears in her jean jacket. Still, better her clothes than herself. So, okay, she was fine as well.

To say this was a big relief off of Pizzazz's shoulders would be an understatement. She could never have lived with herself if something horrible had happened to Clash. Make no mistake; the Misfits were in debt to her in more ways than one, and Pizzazz knew it. At this moment she was ready to offer - no - flat out give the young fan anything she wanted in pure gratitude. She would talk to Clash about it later, but first things first. 

"Okay...Look, a lot of shit's happened. I'll tell you everything, but first I need a good, fucking drink. Anybody else?"

"Fuck that!" Roxy roared before anyone could answer, her anger roaring back. "Tells us now!"

Despite the fact she had been hoping for a slight reprieve from the inevitable, Pizzazz knew Roxy, in her own gruff way, was right. She shouldn't put off giving her band the truth about what happened to them any longer.

"Alright...everyone get comfortable. Your gonna' want to sit down for this."

She went to help Stormer get off the floor and help her onto the bed, propping her up against the pillows to make sure she was as comfortable possible before sitting down next to her. Clash moved across the room, wearily moving past Roxy, to sit down at the makeup table, leaning forward a bit as if she was getting ready to jump up and run if necessary. As for Roxy herself, she stayed where she was, leaning against the wall with a scowl on her face, arms crossed as she kept glaring daggers at her band leader.

Pizzazz took one final look at the gathered women, her Misfits - which, as far as she was concerned, included Clash, since it was her help that made it possible for them to be here - not in the least relishing how Roxy and Stormer would react to what she was about to tell them.

Would Stormer, who had always been the most sensitive of the three of them, start crying in fear and confusion? 

Would Roxy, with her explosive temper, go nuclear like she had before? 

Would Clash, despite her promise to help, suddenly decided this was too much for her, and flee after all?

Well, there was only one way to find out...

Without further hesitation she suddenly launched into it, telling them many things about herself, her past, what she was, and, most importantly, what they were now as well. She did leave a few things out that weren't relevant at the moment, but she would share those secrets soon enough. She kept on, never letting any of them ask any questions until she had told them everything she wanted and needed to.


	9. Chapter 9

As _the Misfits deal with the truth, Pizzazz remembers the past..._

  
In all honesty, it could have been worse. After a long monologue that went one for almost an hour and a half, Pizzazz had finished, leaving the Misfits to more or less react in their own way.

Instead of crying, Stormer had simply laid back and stared up at the ceiling, a blank expression on her face. No doubt she was mulling over what she had just been told. Despite being the most sensitive of the three of them, she was still tough enough to handle anything the rest of them could, so any fears that what she had just been told might break her were probably unfounded...hopefully...

Instead of fleeing, Clash had stayed and listened intensely, seemingly interested in learning what she didn't know to add to what she already did. No doubt she seemed eager to start asking questions, but seemed to be holding back for the moment, possibly sensing it wasn't the right time to do so.

Instead of going....ah, hell, of course Roxy went nuclear. In the time they had known her, her band mates would jokingly rate the bass player's own emotional detonations the same way the explosive force of real nuclear blasts were. In this case, this was easily a 3-megaton detonation; the equivalent of 3 million tons of TNT going off at the same time.

As a matter of fact, the bass player - after cursing up a storm against Pizzazz - had stormed out of the room, and was wrecking the spare bedroom next door, destroying any object unfortunate enough to be her path, if the sounds of splintering wood and shattering glass were any indication. 

Pizzazz knew the best thing to do when Roxy was like this was to let her rage on until she burned herself out, even though she knew it would probably cost her plenty to have everything replaced. But as long as she didn't lose Roxy as a band mate...as a friend...as a sister...it didn't matter.

"Um...is she going to be okay?"

Pizzazz glanced at Clash, who was still sitting at the makeup table, nervously glancing at the open door through which the sounds of Roxy's rampage were coming through, and shook her head.

"Yeah, just let her go on. She'll burn herself out, sooner or later." She sighed. "Besides, she has a right to be mad at me." She gestured at Stormer. "So does she."  
  
This seem to break the blue-haired keytarist out of her reverie, as she suddenly sat up and looked at band leader, her expression unreadable.

"I'm not mad at you. It's just..." Words failed her for a moment. "It's...just...I don't how I feel about any of this. I mean...vampires are real, and now I'm one of them apparently." Her eyes began to water as she started to sob. The numbness she felt from the initial shock of the night's events were starting wear off, allowing the full gravity of the situation crash down on her. Words failed her as her sobbing became full on crying. "What the hell...what the hell..."

A wave of fresh guilt washed over Pizzazz. Oh, did she know how Stormer felt...

Once upon a time she had literally hated herself because of what she was. Abandoned by her birth mother, and essentially ignored by her father, young Phyllis Gabor teetered on the emotional brink, and was, truth be told, a bit suicidal, though every attempt ended in failure due to the fact she couldn't be killed by any conventional means. That is until, during one failed attempt, she met the woman she would come to call Mom, who would take her in and essentially adopt her as her own, giving her the first real love and affection she had ever received in her life.

Under Mom's tutelage she had learned that she shouldn't be afraid or disgusted of what she was; that she should embrace the fact that she was unique. Through her she also learned how to master her abilities, and find safe, ethical ways to sate her never ending hunger for blood, and thus brought her vampiric nature under control. 

It was no exaggeration to say that Mom had saved her life, for who the hell knows what would have happened to her if they had never met.

Opening her eyes again, Pizzazz knew what she had to do. She would have to guide and teach her Misfits just as Mom had done with her, doing all that she could to help the women who were sisters to her now more than ever before.

And she would start with Stormer. 


	10. Chapter 10

_Pizzazz reaches out to Stormer..._

  
By now Stormer had turned away from everyone, her arms folded around her head as she lay face down in the pillow, her body convulsing with every sob.

Clash, who was still sitting at the makeup table, looked absolutely lost as to what to do. Pizzazz, however, knew what she had to do.

She gingerly reached out and placed her hand on Stormer's shoulder before leaning forward, making every attempt to not startle her band mate. She spoke as softly, as gently, as she had before she bit her in back in the van.

"Stormer...look at me." The keytarist didn't respond at first, prompting her to speak a little more firmly. "Stormer...look at me."

Stormer finally did, slowly turning her head to stare at her band leader, her eyes soaked with tears that were running down her face. Her eyes were still in vampiric mode, since she didn't know how to change them back like her band leader could. Her mouth was in a deep frown, hiding away her fangs. 

The mere sight of this sad visage nearly broke Pizzazz's heart, but she gently pulled her band mate up to a sitting position, gently cupping her face in her hands to make sure she was looking straight at her.

"Do you remember me speaking to you in the van?" Stormer just nodded. "Do you remember what I said?"

Stormed managed to croak out, "You said we'd be like sisters."

"And now we are."

"We are?" The mix of skepticism and surprise in Stormer's voice was unmistakable. "How?"

Pizzazz smiled. "Let me show you." 

She wrapped her arm around her band mate's - no - her sister's waist, and gently maneuvered her off the bed and towards the makeup table, motioning for Clash to move out of the way with her free hand, which she did. She pulled Stormer close to her as they stared into the mirror, opening her mouth to reveal her fangs in all their glory.

"Now you," she prompted.

With some hesitation, Stormer showed her fangs off as well. She was immediately struck by the sight of both them sporting glowing eyes and fangs, standing together as if they were posing for a publicity photo.

A smile appeared on Pizzazz's face, but not one of those evil grins she would have when coming up with some scheme. No, this one seemed to be genuinely warm and affectionate.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I guess we're kinda' like sisters...or something." Stormer nearly choked on her words, and for a moment it seemed like she was going to cry again, but managed to hold it together. "But...I mean....vampires?"

Pizzazz gently pressed their cheeks together, placing her arm around her sister's shoulders.

"I know. For a long time I couldn't accept what I was, but someone told me I was special, and now so are you." She gently turned Stormer's head so they were face to face. "I never wanted you to find out about me like this, but in a way I'm glad it happened."

"You are?"

"Yeah. Believe me when I tell you that you and Roxy are the only friends I've ever had in my life. Keeping this a secret from you was hard. In fact, I was going to share this with you eventually, but oh well, not time like the present." She grinned, flashing her fangs. "What we now share makes you my sisters in more ways than one." She grasped her sister's hands in her own. "I know it's a lot to take in, but believe me when I say you won't face it alone. I'll help you every way I can. Roxy too." The sounds of crashing furniture from next door made Pizzazz roll her eyes. "If we can get her to calm the fuck down for five minutes." 

Stormer had listened to all of this with awe. In all the time she had known her, Pizzazz had never really been much the "lovey-dovey" type of friend. Oh, sure, she cared about her fellow Misfits, but it was more in the way of a kind of tough love, where she acted more like a military commander than a band leader when it came to encouraging her group, telling them to "Suck it up, cupcake. You'll be fine" when they faltered, and giving them a metaphorical boot in the ass when they needed motivation.

It was through this kind of leadership that they managed to weather the stormy waters of the music world to get where they were now, which, admittedly, wasn't the top of the charts yet, but they were on their way there - at least until that, to quote Pizzazz, "Pink-Haired Witch and her Holo-Twerps" showed up and stole the limelight that was rightly theirs.

Still, to most people Pizzazz would seem like a heartless witch herself when it came to leading the Misfits. But there were little instances here and there where it was clear her care for them went beyond just wanting to see the band succeed. Pizzazz, for example, once beat the hell out of some pervert who tried to grab Stormer's ass while they were on stage at some shitty club. Later one she had asked the keytarist if she was alright in the softest voice she had ever used, making no effort to hide the genuine concern she must have been feeling for her band mate. When told that, all things considered, Stormer would be okay, she immediately went back to her usual self, never using that soft voice ever again until now.

Stormer couldn't help but chuckle at Pizzazz's remark about Roxy, gripping her hands in return. "So...sisters, huh?" she asked quietly.

Pizzazz nodded. "Mm-hmm."

Sisters...that was something Mary "Stormer" Philips never had growing up. Hell, she never really had any friends, for that matter. All she did have was a mother and a brother, and after Mom got sick and died, her brother ended up becoming more of a parent than a sibling through necessity, so they're relationship inevitably changed. Truth be told, the Misfits were the closest thing to friends she ever had, though they would inevitably tease her whenever she tried to be too affectionate with them, even though all she wanted to do was to show how much she cared about them.

But now, with Pizzazz just told her, things could be different.

On a whim Stormer, as if to test and see if this was a dream or not, did something she wouldn't have ever dreamed of doing with the fearsome leader of the Misfits before - she wrapped her in a hug, leaning her head on her shoulder. She knew it was risky, since the Misfits were never really receptive to open displays of affection, but surprisingly Pizzazz returned the hug, leaning her own head on Stormer's as she held her. 

From off to the side Clash had watched the whole exchange between the two of them, staying as silent as she could so she wouldn't disturb them. She had to pinch herself to remind herself she wasn't dreaming; that unbelievably she was witnessing an important moment for the future of the Misfits. Something she sure as hell didn't expect to see when she woke up that morning.

But as she watched she noticed there were no more sounds coming from the room next door, and everything had become quiet. This hopefully meant Roxy's rampage had finally run out of steam.

Hopefully...


	11. Chapter 11

_Roxy reaches into the past to deal with her anger in the present..._   
  
  


  
Roxy needed a smoke. Nothing was better at helping her relax than one of her beloved cigarettes, but her last pack probably went up in flames with the rest of her stuff when the van did.

Fuck...

Truth be told she was still a bit agitated, even after destroying everything in the room. Raging on like this usually helped her blow off steam, but this time it didn't seem to work. Right now she felt like she was a tiger trapped in a cage, ready to claw her way out.

Maybe a good, stiff drink would help. It usually did when she couldn't smoke.

She made her way to the door, stepping over the shattered and broken remains of just about every object in the room, stopping mid-step in the doorway to look over the destruction she had wrought. 

Nothing had been spared from her wrath. She had torn huge chunks of the mattress with her band hands, while managing to chuck one of the nightstands right through a window with ease to land who knows where. Both a makeup table and accompanying chair had been smashed into kindling, while the mirror itself was now a millions little shards spread all over the floor.

Truth be told, the ferocity of this particular rampage surprised her. She had destroyed stuff before while pissed off, but this time seemed...different.

The rage driving her on this time seemed to be burning longer and hotter than any she felt before. It just kept on simmering, refusing to go out.

She knew where it came from - Oh, did she know - but like her Aunt Judy would say, "Ya gotta' calm the fuck down sooner or later."

She wished Judy was here with her right now. She could help her make sense of any of this vampire shit Pizzazz had dumped on her. Or at least hug her and tell her it was going to be alright, like she used to. Nobody else could make her feel better than her aunt could.

She stepped into the hallway, looking on both directions before heading to the left, since the other end of the hallway ended in a dead end. She stepped passed the room where she had left the other Misfits, the door still wide opened. 

Someone, possibly Pizzazz, shouted "Roxy!", but she just gritted her teeth, and kept right on going. Right now she was in no mood to face the band leader right now.

She found the stairway and stomped downstairs, where she started her search for booze eventually lead her to a combination library/lounge where there was....a liquor cabinet! 

Lucky for her there were no locks on it anywhere, so she was able to just rifle through it, finding - much to her satisfaction - that it was fully stocked. She eventually picked out a bottle of bourbon whiskey, popped it open and started taking swigs. She reveled in the warmth she felt with each drink, finding that it did indeed help her relax. She leaned against the bar, her back to the door, and stared of into space, remembering how Aunt Judy first introduced her to the wonderful world of alcohol when she turned eighteen. 

The fact was that Judy had introduced her to a lot of things. Taught her a lot of things too. Hell, she did a better job of raising her than those poor excuses of humanity that were supposed to be her parents; they couldn't have cared less about her, seeing her as only a nuisance in their pathetic lives.

Fuck'em!

Judy had been more of a parent - a loving one - than they ever were, and right now she'd give anything to have her here right now, helping deal with all this. But that was impossible unless Judy figured out a way to come back from the dead.

"Roxy?"

She whipped around to face the door, and found Pizzazz standing there in the doorway, with Stormer and that purple-haired girl -What was her name? Oh, yeah, Clash - standing behind her. Pizzazz had a neutral look on her face, while the others had looks of uncertainty on theirs. 

At the mere sight of her band leader, a fresh wave of anger flashed through Roxy, and without thinking she flung the bottle across the room, aiming straight for Pizzazz...


	12. Chapter 12

_The Misfits Reach out to Roxy and Pull it Together  
  
_

...who reacted swiftly and caught it mid-air with one hand. More amused than concerned, she examined the label.

"Hmm, good choice."

She took a swig herself, and strolled into the room, heading straight towards the bar. Stormer and Clash cautiously followed behind her, no doubt apprehensive about what could happen next. Roxy was scowling as she eyed them closely. She looked like some wild animal ready to pounce, which she was more than capable of doing. Clash could attest to that.

Though the truth was she wasn't really angry at her band. No, her anger in this case came from the fact she was having trouble coming to grips with what had happened to her, and what she had become.

Pizzazz never broke eye contact with her as she approached.

"Feeling better?" she asked, handing back the bottle. A foolish act if her band mate decided to fling it at her again.   
  
A visibly tense Roxy didn't answer right away, glaring back at Pizzazz.

"Yeah, I guess," she finally answered, though the scowl on her face said otherwise. It was clear she still wasn't happy about everything that had happened. Pizzazz noted this and sighed.

"Look, I know your upset-"

"Ain't that the fucking truth..."

"-but like I told you; it was either this or let you and Stormer die, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen."

Despite how it had been done, Roxy was under no illusions that she and Stomer wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for Pizzazz. Someone saving your life was something you didn't forget. As Judy would say, "When somebody pulls you from the flames, you don't spit in their face."

But with that said...

"Look...I'm sorry. I'm not pissed off at you...it's just...." She trailed off, seemingly having trouble putting her words together, before she suddenly flung the bottle to the floor, shattering it into a spray of broken glass and liquid. "Goddammit! What do you want me to say?! I nearly died and now I'm some kind of fucking monster!"

She glared at her band mates, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, the scowl on her face even more pronounced than before. But this fresh round of anger seem to burn itself out as soon as it started, leaving her to try and catch her breath after getting so worked up. She let her head drop, breaking eye contact with her band, as she seemed to relax.

Pizzazz and Stormer shared a concerned look, before the latter slowly approached and gently placed her hands on the bass player's shoulders.

"Roxy," she exclaimed, firmly, getting the bass player's attention, "your not a monster. Sure, your no longer human, but now your something better; a vampire. _Homo Nocturnis_. That means your cut above of the rest, human or otherwise." She then added softly, "More importantly your still a Misfit, and nothing is going to change that. Nothing."

"She's right," Stormer chimed in. "Pizzazz told me she considers us sisters now because of this."

"Sisters?" Roxy stared at the keytarist like she had grown a third head, then turned back to her leader. "Never thought I'd ever hear that from you."

"I never thought I'd actually say it out loud. Believe it or not, I care about you. Both of you. It's just that I didn't think I had to be all sunshine and rainbows about it all the time, like Pink Hair." 

"Makes sense," Roxy agreed. The Misfits weren't known for being the affectionate with each other. Maybe Stormer, but that's it. "But...sisters...really?"

"Let me show you something." 

Pizzazz put her arm around the bassist's shoulders and guided her towards a large mirror hanging on a nearby wall. With her free hand she motioned for Stormer to join them. The keytarist did so willing, smiling as she knew what their leader was doing.

Flanked by her Misfits, Pizzazz peered into the mirror, her eyes still holding their inhuman appearance with the green iris. She opened her mouth, showing off her fangs. She then jerked her head towards Stormer. "Now you." 

The keytarist, with her inhuman eyes with the blue iris, opened her mouth to fully show her fangs. 

Pizzazz nodded, then jerked her head towards Roxy. "Now you."

The bass player, her eyes like the others except for a red iris, seem to hesitate for a second, before she too opened her mouth to show her own fangs. 

Pizzazz grinned. "Well, what do you think?"

Roxy had to admit they were impressive. "Yeah, they're pretty badass."

"Sure are," Stormer agree.

Indeed. The sight of the three Misfits together with their gleaming fangs and luminescent eyes visible gave them a wild, feral look that was impressive to behold. From where she was watching them off to the side, Clash certainly thought so.

"Imagine flashing those fangs at the Holo-Twerps," she joked. "You'd scare' em right off the stage."

The mere thought of it had Pizzazz cackling, followed by the others. It was the kind of laugh the three of them would share when they were scheming together to do something, like play a prank on the Holograms. At moments like those they were just like...

Okay, Roxy understood what Pizzazz meant. After Aunt Judy died she really didn't have anyone to be close to. Sure, she had her gang, the Red Aces, but they were her friends and she wasn't really close to them - at least, not in the way she had been with Judy. Then fate had her cross paths with Stormer and Pizzazz, and here she found two kindred spirits with whom she felt a closeness to she hadn't felt since Judy. 

So the idea that they were in a way sisters wasn't so far-fetched. It's just that she never thought any of the Misfits - least of all, Pizzazz - would ever actually say it out loud.

But now that Pizzazz had...yeah, Roxy could see it for herself. Especially with how this vampire thing they now shared seemed to drive it home. 

She looked into the mirror, curling her lips back to show of her fangs as she scrunched her face up, as she pretended be some kind of wild beast trying to intimidate some imaginary foe. She made sounds too, doing her best impressions of growls and snarls to go with it. 

The other Misfits looked on with amusement, taking this as a good sign that their sister was coming to terms with her vampiric nature, started to imitate her, with Pizzazz surprising everyone with a very convincing - not to mention intimidating - hiss. 

"How the hell did ya do that?" Roxy asked.

Pizzazz smirked. "Simple. Let me show you."

So began several minutes of the leader of the Misfits teaching them how to convincingly hiss while baring their fangs. They managed to get the hang out of it, but admittedly needed more practice to be as good as her.

Still watching from afar, so to speak, Clash couldn't help but smile and shake her head. She was sure this was a side of the Misfits that no one else - not the Holograms, their fans, no one - had ever seen. It was yet another addition to a long list of surprises on this morning like no other. 

Pizzazz could see the young fan's reflection in the mirror as she stood behind them, seemingly maintaining a respectful distance from them as they had this bonding moment. She smirked and winked, knowing Clash would see it reflected in the mirror. The young fan smiled in return. This was a bonding moment for the Misfits, but she had not been forgotten. 

Pizzazz turned to Roxy. "So how do you feel now?"

"About what?" The bass player stared back at her for moment or so before she realized what Pizzazz was asking her. "Okay, I can kind of see us being sisters."

"Good." 

The two of them stared at each other, as if one was waiting for the other to say or do something first. Roxy rolled her eyes.

"Your not going to try and hug me, are you?"

"Not unless you want me to."

"...pass."

"I'll hug you!"

"Stormer, no! You -" She was too late, as the keytarist suddenly wrapped her arms around her band mate in a bear hug. Roxy rolled her eyes. "Ugh...thanks, Stormer."

Pizzazz smiled as she watched Roxy tried to untangle herself from Stormer, who decided to playfully screw with her sister by refusing to let her go. The target of her affections, suddenly grinning, picked her up and started to carry her around the room over her shoulder, while the both of them started giggling like loons. 

The Misfits, it seemed, were back to normal.


	13. Chapter 13

_Loose Ends and a Just Reward  
  
  
_

After taking some much needed showers, and a change of clothes - with Pizzazz generously lending some spare pieces from her wardrobe to her sisters - the Misfits were enjoying a feast of pizza, wings, and booze - again, Pizzazz's treat - in the lounge, while lazily channel surfing. Wanting to forget about what happened the night before, they didn't particularly care about what they watched, which is why no one objected when Roxy, the current holder of the remote, had them settle on truck and tractor pulling.

"So what happens now?" Stormer asked, in-between nibbles from a slice of pizza. 

Pizzazz turned to face her, holding a fresh bottle of tokaji she had grabbed from the cabinet, and poured herself another glass. 

"Well, first your going to eat," she replied, indicating the food. She took a sip from her drink. "Then we're going to spend the rest of the day sitting on our asses, because you two need to rest, while I don't feel like doing anything else today." She took another sip, longer than the first. "Then tomorrow we're going to see how we stand with Starlight Music now that our manager managed to land his ass in jail."

"I told you we should have dumped him," Roxy grumbled. "We're lucky the cops aren't looking for us."

Stormer frowned. "Maybe they are right now. They will if they find the van."

Dammit, Stormer was right. She had been so focused on getting Roxy and Stormer out of there that she hadn't thought about someone finding the van wrecked and abandoned in the middle of some field, with no trace of them. The first thing any sane person would do would be to call the authorities, who would trace the van to her through Starlight Music - who, as far as she knew, they were still contracted with - and thus learn where she lived. Upon finding them safe and sound, they would start asking some awkward questions...

So, long story short, they had to somehow retrieve what was left of the van and bring it back here as discreetly as possible with no one outside the Misfits the wiser.

In regards to their manager, she was in no hurry to start worrying about him. Relations between the band and their manager had been gradually deteriorating with each failed attempt over the last few weeks to stop Pink Hair and the Holo-Twerps on their meteoric rise to success, with every conversation turning into a verbal firestorm as each side violently blamed the other for the lack of success. Worse still, it was becoming abundantly clear to the band that their manager was more interested in using them as minions in his schemes to gain control of Starlight Music than actually furthering their careers. 

Things had come to a head the night before the Battle of the Bands. Pizzazz had engaged Eric in a firestorm that was more violent...more vicious...than any that came before it. She had called him out on just using them for his own ends, while he shot back that a "rich bitch, gutter snipe and sentimental airhead" like them would never had succeeded without his help and business prowess.

He would never know how close she came to going "fangs out" on him...

But you know what? Fuck him. 

He got himself into trouble last night, so let him get himself out without her help. If he expected her to come to his rescue and pay his bail or something, he was in for a disappointment. She wasn't going to spend another dime on his ass. His time as manager of the Misfits was over. 

That left Jerrica Benton, the new owner of Starlight Music, for them to deal with. They could only hope she wasn't the vindictive type. She didn't seem to be, but Pizzazz - to her own surprise - found she couldn't blame her if she was after all the shit Eric had tried to pull. But Benton could wait. Right now the Misfits were her number one concern.

"You know," Stormer exclaimed, "something tells me we might need a new manager."

"We're going to need a lot of new things," Roxy grunted. "Our instruments, our van, our..." She suddenly became very quiet as she leaned back in the couch. A distant, faraway look was on her face. "Pizzazz?"

"Yeah?" The leader of the Misfits suddenly had a sinking feeling about what this was about.

"Did you know if he was with me when you pulled me out of the van?"

Pizzazz shook her head. "No, I don't. I was too worried about you." Her stomach churned as she added, "Besides, I doubt anything of ours survived the fire."

"Son of a bitch."

Stormer, realizing what this was about, tried to comfort her. "I'm sure we can get one just like him for you."

Roxy shook her head. "Not like him. He was one of a kind," she whispered. "She gave him to me."

Her band mates exchanged worried looks, while Clash frowned. She leaned over and whispered to Pizzazz.

"Um, Who's she talking about?"

"I'll tell you later," the Misfits' leader whispered back.

And they left it at that.

  
Later on, when most of the food had been consumed, and speedboat racing had given way to some movie on the TV, a kind of peace had settled over the lounge - only to be broken by Pizzazz.

"Clash, could you go wait in the kitchen? I want to have a private chat with the girls."

"Um, okay." 

She got up and left the room, hearing the TV being switched off behind her. She helped herself to a glass of water while she waited to be called back in, trying unsuccessfully to hear what they were saying in the lounge, but she was too far away. A few minutes or so later Pizzazz called her back in.

There were smiles on the Misfits' faces as they sat around the room, so whatever it was wasn't bad. Pizzazz patted the spot on the couch where Clash had been sitting next to her earlier. 

"Have a seat." She waited for the young fan to sit down. "Well, I've talked it over with the girls, and the fact is we owe a lot. Hell, we owe you everything. If you hadn't shown up when you did..." She suddenly frowned as she remembered being in that field. "Well, I don't want to think about. But the truth is we wouldn't be sitting here if it wasn't for you." She gave a small smile. "So to show our gratitude, we're going to give you anything you want." She swept her arm around, gesturing towards the room. "As you can tell, I'm very well off. If you want money, name an amount. If you want a car, name the make and model. Anything you want."

Clash sat there for a moment, a bit stunned. She had been wondering what would surprise her next that morning, and this was it. Pizzazz, her idol, leader of what she considered the greatest band of all time, the Misfits, was offering her anything she wanted in pure gratitude for helping them.

At first she was too stunned to think of anything. Then it hit her; here was her one-in-a million, never come again chance to change her life for good. 

"Anything I want?" she asked.

Pizzazz nodded. "Anything."

"I want to join the Misfits."

"Done."

Roxy and Stormer looked at each other, more than a little surprised. This wasn't the answer they were expecting, but they agreed with Pizzazz that the band should show their gratitude in some way, so there it was. 

Still, it wouldn't hurt to find out what kind of musical experience - if - any, Clash had. Everyone had been too distracted by...other things to actually get a chance to know the young fan who had rescued them from the road side.

"Do you play any instruments?" Stormer asked. Clash suddenly seemed a bit nervous.

"Um...do these count?" Clash reached into a pocket of her jacket and retrieved a pair of leather arms bands. Attached to each was one half of what appeared to be a pair of miniature cymbals. Sh strapped them on her wrists, raised her arms above her head and brought them together, smashing the cymbals against each other with a small, well, clash. To be honest, the sound wasn't very impressive.

Stormer and Roxy looked each other, then both stared at Pizzazz, seemingly wanting to hear what their leader had to say before voicing their own opinions. 

"Well, it's an instrument," she finally said. "Can you sing?"

As it turned out, she could, but not well. While attempting to belt out a few lines from _Makin' Mischief_ , it became clear she didn't have the voice for it, being too high-pitched and off-key. It was, to be honest, horrible, but in this case none of the Misfits, uncharacteristically, wanted to say it. Clash, however, noticed the uneasy expressions on their faces and frowned

"That bad, huh?" 

Pizzazz gave her a consoling smile. "Well, not everyone is as musically-inclined like we are. Nothing wrong with that. I'm sure we can still find something for you to do."

Thinking that her chance of joining the band might be in danger - which, in truth, it wasn't, but she didn't know that - Clash nearly blurted out, "I'm a videographer!" Quickly adding, "Well, actually, I've been working for one."

This got Pizzazz attention. "Really? Who?"

"Vivienne Montgomery. Though she goes by...Video..." She was suddenly unnerved by the scowl that came across Pizzazz's face as soon as she mentioned her cousin's name. "Um...I guess you've heard of her."

"Oh, yes," Pizzazz replied darkly. "We certainly have." 

It seemed like she was trying not to lose her temper and fly into one of her trademark rages. Stormer stepped in to explain.

"We once tried to hire Video to work for us, but she took one look at us and turned us down. Said she wasn't interested in doing anything for a group like ours. Never said why." She glanced at her leader. "Pizzazz didn't take it well."

"Still don't," the Misfits' leader growled.

"I always thought she was stuck up," Roxy remarked. "Like her reputation would be wrecked or something by being seen with us."

Clash nodded. "Makes sense. My cousin's always been stuck up, even when we were kids. I've been stuck in her shadow for years."

"She's your cousin?" Pizzazz's anger seemed to have died down before it boiled over.

"Mm-hmm, 'fraid so. The only reason I agreed to work for her is because it was the only way I could get out here to LA, and try and get into the entertainment industry."

"For starters, we call it "the business." Second, you've just given me an idea." Pizzazz was now smiling mischievously. "How would you like to stick it to your cousin and be our videographer?"

For Clash, this was too good...too surreal...to be true. Yet it was, and in her mind there was only one answer...

"Hell, yes!"

She wasn't the type to literally start jumping for joy, but this time was the exception. Letting herself give into the moment, she started dancing around the room, hugging all three Misfits, while thanking them profusely. A Pizzazz-like grin suddenly came over her face.

"Wait until I tell dear cousin Vivian." She reached for a nearby phone, but Pizzazz stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. 

"I have a better idea. Let's tell it to her face when we grab your stuff."

"My stuff?"

"Yeah. Since your a Misfit now, you'll be moving in here." She turned to Roxy and Stormer. "The same goes for you two. We'll finally get you out of that crappy apartment you've been sharing."

"Okay."

"Fine with me."

Neither of them were going to be object to the idea of moving out of Stormer's cramp apartment, which they had been sharing, and into a luxury mansion in Beverly Hills.

Pizzazz nodded with finality. "Then it's decided. You two will stay here and rest, while I help Clash move in." She clapped her hands together. "So let's get going."

"You mean right now?" Clash asked, a bit surprised at how fast things were moving.

Pizzazz smiled at her. "Why not?"

Clash returned the smile. "Why not."

"Then let's go."

Clash was nearly dancing for joy as she followed Pizzazz out the door.

_  
  
  
  
  
_


	14. Chapter 14

_Clash Moves Out_

  
Chapter Fourteen

Vivian "Video" Montgomery, professional videographer, was worried, and a little put out, by the fact her cousin hadn't come home yet from the Battle of the Bands, as she sat in the living room of her apartment, waiting by the phone in case Constance called. She had said she would stay overnight, then come home first thing in the morning, but it was already one in the afternoon, and there was still no sign of her.

Somehow she wasn't surprised. Her cousin wasn't exactly known for being punctual, and would probably have had trouble keeping down a job, if she, Video, hadn't agreed to take her on as an apprentice as sort of a favor to her uncle. So far Clash had managed to get a pretty good handle on things, but still had a long way to go to be experienced enough to work on her own.

That is, if she ever decided to come home.

Now a little concerned, Video was about to call her uncle in case he had heard from his daughter, when the front door swung open, and Clash herself strolled in as if nothing had happened.

Relieved but a bit irked, Video rose from the couch, blocking her cousin's path, hands on her hips.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Do you know what time it is? You said you'd be home in the morning, and it's almost-"

"I'm moving out," Clash cut her off, grinning triumphantly. 

"...Your what?"

"I'm moving out. I'm just here to get my stuff."

"Moving out? Where are you going to go? You can't afford a place of your own."

"I don't need to anymore." Clash pushed past her, and made a beeline for her room. "My new job comes with room and board."

To say Video was shocked by this revelation would be an understatement. "A new job? Doing what?"

Clash glanced at her from over her shoulder with a grin, relishing this moment like no other. 

"Videographer for a band."

She went about packing up her worldly possessions, leaving her cousin to stand there in the middle of the room, momentarily stunned.

"Videographer?" she echoed, completely floored by the thought of someone hiring her cousin, who had little or no experience, to work for them. "You don't have enough experience to work on your own. You've only be my assistant for a year."

For a moment Clash was ready to angrily snap back at her, like she had in the past, but reminded herself it didn't matter what her cousin said. She was a Misfit now - their own videographer, in fact - so let dear old Vivian run her mouth. It wouldn't change a thing.

Admittedly sounding a bit more cruel than she intended, Video went on. "Furthermore, who the hell would hire you?" 

"I would," said a voice from behind from her.

Pizzazz was standing in the doorway, arms crossed in front of her, looking intimidating in her midnight black pantsuit and polished leather shoes. A pair of Cat's Eyes sunglasses hid her eyes. 

"You did?" Video scowled, eyes narrowed, at the intruder. Pizzazz was the last person she ever wanted to see standing in her apartment. Or anywhere else, for that matter. She marched right up to her, getting right in the intruder's face. "I should have known you'd be behind this. This is you getting back at me for not working with you, isn't it?" She started to poke her with an accusing finger. "Isn't it?!"

For her part, Pizzazz used all the self-control she could muster to resist the urge to break Video's finger and the hand it was attached to, responding with one of her trademark smirks instead.

"What do you think?" She then pointedly ignored the enraged videographer, and glanced over at Clash. "You ready to go yet?"

"Just about." A few more items tossed into a duffel bag, and she was ready. "Okay, let's get out of here."

Without another word the two of them left the room, leaving Video to stand there, silently fuming before she chased after them, mad as a hornet. The two of them were out in the hall and halfway to the elevator when she caught up to them.

"You've gotta' be kidding me!" she roared. "I made you my assistant as a favor to your Dad - against my better judgement - and this is how you repay me?!" 

The initial shock of Clash leaving had worn off to be replaced by pure anger that was starting to boil over.

"After just one year of work - sloppy work, I might add - you decide your ready to go out on your own." She once again aimed that accusing finger of hers at Pizzazz. "And all because this green-haired bitch and her pack of whores decide to give you a job just to spite me!" She waved her arm towards the elevator. "So if you think you can make it, go! Because I'm done with you! And don't think I'll take you back if you fuck up!"

Clash gritted her teeth, not in the least bit surprised at how little her cousin regard her abilities, though a bit surprised at how vicious her tirade was. Her leaving had struck a nerve, it seemed. Still, it didn't mean she was just going to stand there and take it. She stepped forward, ready to roar back, when Pizzazz stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Forget her." A half smile was on her face as she jerked her head towards the elevator. "Head down to the car. I'll be right there."

All at once the anger brewing inside Clash seemed to melt away and be replaced by a feeling of warmth as Pizzazz spoke to her. She nodded. "Okay." Without giving her cousin another look, she walked away.

As soon as Clash was gone the smile on Pizzazz's face instantly changed to a scowl, as she turned to face Video, moving slowly like the gun turret on a tank as it took aim at the nearest target. 

And that's what Video suddenly felt like; a target.

The green-haired diva took slow, deliberate menacing steps towards her, the leather shoes making sharp clacks against the floor with every step. She didn't say a word, though she didn't need to. It was clear she was angry. The fact she was deathly quiet instead of ranting and raving like she usually did was unnerving.

All the anger she had felt earlier had melted away to be replaced by fear as Pizzazz now stood in front of her, face-to-face. Even though she couldn't see her eyes because of the glasses, Video was sure they were narrowed and glaring at her. 

"Say whatever you want about me; I don't care. Never did." The tone of Pizzazz's voice was as cold as ice. "But if you ever insult my my Misfits...my sisters...like that again...."

Video yelped as Pizzazz suddenly gripped the sides of her head, sharp fingernails painfully digging into her skin. 

"I will end you...Understand?"

She shoved Video back as she released her grip, sending her stumbling a bit, before she turned and headed for the elevator without another word. She wasn't going to tell her why Clash was working for them now; it wasn't any of her business.

Video was left standing there in the hallway, shaking her head, stunned at what had happened. Pizzazz had acted way out of character. In the past she would have screamed in the face of whoever had pissed her off, instead of coldly threatening their life like she just had. 

She returned to her apartment, shaking her head as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  
Clash tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited for Pizzazz out in front of the building. Truth be told, Vivian's harsh words were still ringing in her ears. She knew her cousin wouldn't be happy about her leaving, but she hadn't expected her to suddenly go nuclear like that, nor be as mean or vicious about it. 

She sighed. As much as her cousin's tirade had been painful, it did confirm what she had suspected all along; Video was a bit of a arrogant control freak, who didn't take well to people going against her. Well, so be it. She wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

Her reverie was broken when someone suddenly gripped her shoulder firmly but gently.

"Don't let her get to you." She looked up to see Pizzazz standing over her. "You don't work for her anymore. Your one of us now, and that's all that matters." She gave her a smile like the one from earlier. "Understand?"

Clash once again felt that same warmth from before as she returned the smile. "Okay."

"Good. Pizzazz slid into the passenger seat. "Let's get out of here." 

Clash took one last look at the building she had considered her prison for the last year or so, grinned and stuck her tongue out in a symbolic gesture to her cousin. Pizzazz chuckled and stuck her own tongue out before they drove away laughing.

They never noticed the old 1950s-era sedan parked across the street, nor the four old women sitting inside who watched them leave...


	15. Chapter 15

_Four Old Ladies in an Old Car..._

  
Chapter Fifteen

"Where do you think it leads to?" Stormer asked as stared down at the door.

Roxy shrugged. "I don't know. The basement?"

"Maybe, but for all we know it could be something else."

"True."

While Pizzazz and Clash were gone, the two of them had spent their time exploring every nook and cranny they could of the mansion they would call home. It was while they were looking around this crowded store room near the kitchen that Stormer had tripped over an old carpet, revealing the door hidden beneath it. It was wooden and looked old, looking very out place compared to the modern room surrounding it. A ring shaped handle, built flushed into the door itself, seemed to be the only way to open it.

"Well, only one way to find out." Roxy kneeled down to reach for the handle...

"There you are," said a voice behind them. "Been snooping around, huh?"  
  
Pizzazz stood in the door, arms folded, an amused smirk on her face, while Clash stood behind her.

"We were bored." Roxy pointed at the door. "Where's that go?"

"You'll find out tonight." Pizzazz stepped past them, pulling the carpet back over the door. "Now help us get Clash moved in."

The two Misfits shrugged as they went off to help their new videographer get her stuff out of the car and up into one of the spare rooms upstairs. It turned out they weren't really needed, since she only had a four major pieces of luggage to unload, along with some smaller items. 

"Hmm, nice car." Roxy had noticed a 1950s-era sedan parked on the curb across the street from the front gate. She squinted a bit as she tried to recognize the make and model, then laughed. "It's a Ford Edsel."

"Really?" Stormer was now looking at the car as well. "It is. My grandparents used to have one like it."

Clash, who's own car was a '66 Ford Mustang convertible, rolled her eyes. "Looks a bit clunky to me."

Pizzazz, who's enhanced senses were sharper and more keen than Roxy and Stormer's, frowned at what the were telling her about the car. Even from this distance she could sense there was something that felt familiar about it, but she couldn't seem make sense of any of it from this distance. She would have to get closer to make heads or tails of it.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

She strolled down to the end of the driveway, her senses growing stronger and more focused with every step. She got a better view of it while she waited for the gate to open. There was definitely someone inside, about three or four...old women? 

As she came closer, she could clearly see there were four old women sitting in the car, yet her senses were telling her that's not who was sitting there. That off yet familiar feeling was now coming in stronger than ever, confusing her even more. This put her on alert as she wearily approached the car, prepared for anything. 

The four 'old' ladies seem to be taking quick glances at her, while rapidly talking amongst herself. The car suddenly revved to life and sped down the street, before turning a corner and disappearing from sight. 

Pizzazz was left standing there in the street, scowling as she watched them drive away. But if she was confused before, she was even more so now. Before they sped away, her senses had managed to get a strong reading on those four 'old' ladies....

She turned and started walking back to the Misfits, her mind working overtime to make sense of everything. If her senses were right, and there was no reason to think they were wrong, the four women in that car were more than well-known to her. 

But if was them, why the hell were they spying on her and the Misfits? For why else would they disguise themselves like old women, and drive around in an equally old car?

The Misfits were still where she left them gathered around Clash's car, no doubt watching her the whole time. They were probably mystified about what happened.

"Pizzazz, who was that?" Stormer asked.

Having sworn to never keep secrets from her Misfits ever again, Pizzazz told them point blank what had happened, and who he thought those old women were. Everyone's reactions were mixed, with Stormer and Clash dumbfounded, while Roxy became irked.

"What the fuck?" she growled. "As if we didn't have enough to worry about."

"Why would they spy on us?" Stormer wondered, frowning. "If it is them?"

"How would they know we're...here..." Clash suddenly frowned as she answered her own question. "They could have followed us from Vivian's place." 

"Make sense," Pizzazz agreed. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if they were following us long before that." Not wanting her sisters to start dwelling on this new development, she added firmly, "Tomorrow we're going to pay a visit to Starlight Music and settle things with them, one way or another. Okay?" The others agreed. "Good. Now let's get Stormer and Roxy moved in." 

The rest of the afternoon and early evening was spent helping the two Misfits moved out of Stormer's crappy apartment - that she was not sorry at all to leave - which mostly went off without a hitch, except for when her landlord didn't want to let them leave with prior notice. A handsome bribe from Pizzazz, however, changed his mind. With that settled, it was only a matter of taking several trips in Clash's hard working convertible to move all their things back to the mansion; made all the more easier by the fact there wasn't any furniture to move. 

There were no more sightings of the 'old' ladies, which Pizzazz was grateful for. They might have been scared form being caught earlier, which suited Pizzazz just fine. She was in no mood to deal with them - if it was them - until tomorrow.

Tonight she had something more important to do. It was time to introduce her Misfits to the Armada. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Any comments will be appreciated. Your input will help me improve as a writer.
> 
> Except for original characters and materials, Jem and the Holograms are the creation of Christy Marx, and the property of Hasbro.


End file.
